


Happy Birthday Dan

by orphan_account



Category: Phan, Phandom, danandphil - Fandom
Genre: Cuddles, Cute, Fluff, Fluffflufffluff, Growing Old, M/M, Meaning of Life, dans birthday, existensial crisis, happy bday d slice, platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-11
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-13 01:12:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11173917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Dan is now 26 and everything about the number scares him until he can't stop cryingLuckily he has a Phil





	Happy Birthday Dan

As I'm roused to consciousness, I feel the still, warm air on my face and the texture of the mattress beneath me. I exhale, lifting myself slightly off the bed to stretch. It's too hot, my duvet clings to me with sweat and my dark curls are plastered to my forehead. I yawn and attempt to sit up, bright light peeping out of my curtains and shining too bright.

Slowly, it dawns on me what day it is. Today is my birthday, and I'm no longer twenty five- I am in fact twenty six. Cool. Birthdays are fun. 

Subconsciously, I lift my hands up in front of my face. I'm still pretty drowsy and they seem to be heavy with sleep. I look at them, turning them and inspecting every shape and every freckle on them. I flex my fingers and curl them up into balls, and let them drop to my lap.

I think again, about the fact it's my birthday and I smile. I have to think about smiling, though. When I smile like this, usually, it's a thing I do to remind myself I should be happy at that moment. Because I should, it's my birthday after all. 

My hands reach up to softly hold my head, to run my fingers through the brown waves that stick up at odd angles. They come down to feel my cheeks and my nose, trace my chin until I hold my face in my hands. The familiar yet unwanted feeling of dread fills my stomach and a writhing sensation takes over my whole body. 

No amount of anything can make this better, not anything. I am Dan Howell, I was twenty five and a YouTuber, successful, I have fans and I went on tour and I wrote a book and I've got a cool friend and a cool life and everything is great. But now, I'm Dan, and I'm twenty six, and I've always felt like this- no matter how many copies of my book I've sold or how many times I've been applauded as I bowed at the end of my show, no matter how many people tell me I've helped them. I've always felt this way. In the end, it's always come down to it.

Twenty six can be rounded to thirty and thirty means a third of the way to ninety. Thirty means half way to being really old, only half way. Half way until my knees get bad, my skin gets wrinkly and I'm even less appealing than I was before. Half way until I'll have nothing to do because no one can picture a tired sixty year old playing video games or creating videos. Half way until my fingers don't work properly and I can't play piano and I can't do anything because I'm old, my body starts to shut down and I'm nearly done with all this.

I'm getting older and I can't stop it, and I'm still here and this is all still happening. 

"Fucking hell," I mutter to myself, feeling the stone in my stomach sink lower. "Twenty six. Twenty fucking six."

And that's when I start to cry. I like crying. Crying makes me feel better- I cry a lot really, just whenever Phil can't see me. I cry when I'm angry to let my feelings out and I cry when I feel hopeless. I feel hopeless now, so I cry. I clench my hands into fists and squeeze the duvet, feeling tears free fall down my cheeks. The soft cries gradually turn into sobs, I feel every emotion in my body just melt and I don't feel anything. I fucking hate this- emotions are very pointless. Yet I cry, because crying makes me feel free. I feel the damp tears roll down my neck and onto my bare chest, and I make no effort to wipe them away. I gasp for breath as I sob, sounds echoing louder than I anticipated across the room as I try to breath normally. I catch sight of myself in my mirror, and I see my red, bloodshot eyes and my wobbling lips, my blotchy face and my hair strewn across my forehead. It only makes me cry more.

"Twenty fucking six."

"Dan?"

I stop suddenly. I suck in a breath, as if my life depending on it, for me to stop crying. I look round at the door, where Phil stands in his sonic pajamas, two cups of coffee in either hand. It makes me slightly sick to see the look on his face as he realises I've been crying.

It really hurts me. His eyes are wide, his mouth hangs open a little and guilt creeps into me from the very tips of my toes up to my brain. His hair hasn't been brushed yet, the black shocks of fluff touseled and messy. His eyes that shine every colour of the rainbow stare at me with great concern and I want to crawl into a hole and hide.

"Dan- what's wrong? Oh Dan-"

Before I can say anything, he comes into my room and sits on the bed, putting the coffee's down on the bedside table and positioning himself my my side. He bites his lip feverishly as I gulp, sniff and try to compose myself. It's hard.

"It's okay. It's nothing," I tell him softly, feeling like I just want to curl up and die. 

"No, it's obviously something," he says quickly. "I haven't seen you this sad in a long time- you can talk to me, you know you can. I'm here for you."

"I know," I say, quietly.

Phil doesn't usually come into my room in the morning. He waits for me to get dressed or sticks his head round the door or sometimes comes in and gives me a coffee in bed, then leaves again. Today, I assume because it's my birthday, he has come in in hopes for a place on my beanbag and a coffee session, maybe a cuddle or two. That's what I want right now.

"Come here."

He shuffles closer to me, opens his arms wide and he lets me fall against his chest. Fuck, I've missed him. We don't hug as much as we used to. We used to be really touchy, we'd toned it down a bit, but fuck. I immediately calm, smell his soft scent of home, and feel the warmth radiate through his pajamas and the softness of his hands on my bare back as he holds me close.

We stay like this for a while, as another silent tear slips down my cheek. 

"I don't know what to do, Phil," my voice breaks as I threaten to let out another sob. I hold it back as he circles my back with his hand, soothing me. 

"About what?" He asks softly. "Is it about your birthday?" 

I think he knows what it's about. He is very familiar with the way I think. We've been friends for so long that there isn't a thing we don't know about eachother. And Phil knows a lot about me. 

"Sort of," I lie. My voice is low and gruff, and my throats hurts from crying. 

"Tell me about it, c'mon, it'll be okay." 

I sit up slowly, letting the duvet fall from my hands and cover me from my waist down. My heart is beating realatively fast, my breathing is irregular and I'm still thinking about everything and trying to arrange my thoughts.

"It's just so fucking stupid, Phil," I tell him, sighing and shaking my head. "So fucking stupid. Do you even see how stupid this all is? It even hurts to know I'm alive. I don't know why, it just does and I don't want it to, Phil. Every day is another step closer to loosing everything I love and it's happening so fucking fast. I want it to just happen now. So it can be over and done with. I don't think you understand."

He is silent for a minute, his eyes searching mine with a soft, sympathetic look in them. They are warm. 

"I don't want to loose this," I repeat, trying to explain myself. "I'm going to get old, I'm going to die. But first, I'm going to loose my hearing and my sight and I'll get ill, and before that I'm going to loose everything I give a shit about. I like my hair. I really like it, Phil, I like my eyes and I quite like my face. I don't like my stomach or my shoulders and I don't like my legs but I like my hands and my arms and i don't want to loose that. They'll only get worse, everything will only get worse, I'll loose this, what we've created and I'll loose the ability to enjoy the things I love now. I don't want it, Phil. I don't want to be twenty six. I want to be beautiful, I want to enjoy beautiful things because this pointless shit all ends. Or I just want it all gone now."

I've started to cry again, softly and silently, the tears filling the empty hollow feeling I have in my chest. I stare blankly into space, wishing that something else existed. Something else existed to give me something to care about. 

"It'll be okay. Dan, look at me."

I turn my head to face him, feeing like a lost child. I feel very lost. 

"Life isn't fair. It hasn't given us a point to any explainations along the way, you know. It's a bit of a silly."

I snort, but I immediately turn my attention straight back to him. I care about what he has to say because I know it will make me feel better. Phil always helps me feel better.

"Dan, you will loose certain things as you grow old. The thing is, you'll move along with it. I promise you, it will all be okay. Your interests will change and so will the way you think, you'll find pleasures in life you've never seen or thought of before, you'll enjoy life in an entirely different way. I promise you, you will find your place. Your future is beautiful Dan. You are beautiful, you really are, you know? I'm not just saying that," he adds that quickly, and I roll my eyes and smile fondly. "I'm not just saying that, Dan. You're honestly so handsome and so beautiful that if I talked about it too much it'd be too gay and the world would explode, okay?"

I find myself chuckling, and I smile as he does, his tongue poking through his teeth and his eyes scrunched up. 

"That's true. You're really beautiful, Dan."

I feel goosebumps on my arms very suddenly.

"And you'll always be beautiful. And you'll always be okay. I'm not leaving anytime soon. If you want to live with me for a long time, for a long long time- you're free to, if you want. We can grow old together. We can do that, Dan. It'll be okay. I swear to you, it's going to be okay."

I feel the hole in my chest not being filled, but with covered up. It's there, and it always has been there and always will be. Because the reality of life is something that I'll never find an answer for and the hole that threatens to rip me apart day by day- but, it's covered, and while it's covered, I can control it and I can be at peace with what I have in front of me.

"I can't give you an answer to your questions," he whispers, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder. "I can't. I'm so sorry. But I can tell you that they aren't worth worrying about and I can tell you that I'll make this life worth all those unanswered questions."

I blink, watching Phil's face get closer to mine as I lean in and place my forehead against his. I look into his eyes and I am grateful for Phil lester, I'm grateful for him and everything he's ever given me. 

"Thank you, Phil," I mutter, seeing him smile slightly. Phil, without a question, Is one of the most wonderful people in the whole world. Truly.

I tell him this.

He breaks apart from me and grins, a tad pink. It hurts, laying here and thinking about all these things, but he fixes it and he fixes everything. In the end, it will all be okay, because I have Phil. He's worth anything I could ever live for.

"I love you, Phil," I mumble, closing my eyes and sinking back down into my bed. I feel calmer. 

"I love you too. Dan, so much. Happy birthday. You aren't a day over twenty and you'll never be more than that. You have a young soul, it'll live for as long as you are willing to let it."

Happy birthday to me. Today, I'm twenty six and I'm okay with it.

**Author's Note:**

> This short fic is heavily influenced by the way I think and the way I feel. Life to me is so pointless that I'd be pretty happy if everything in it died at the same time right now. Except that can't happen therefore we have to find a purpose else everyone just hurts. Tonight it's hurt a lot, thinking about this, and I'm scared that growing older will deprive me of the things I love doing and the way I act will change and the way I look. And then I die, and it scares me so much. I feel alone. 
> 
> Sometimes it irritates me a lot how people joke about existential crisis'- it even irritates me how Dan makes jokes out of them. Of course, you have to laugh at things but honestly, in live shows and certain points of Dan's life he shows to us, I can see some of this stuff shine through. I wrote this to get some feelings out and also hopefully show some people that existential crisis' very much are a thing and very much serious. I haven't got an ounce of mental illness in me, I don't think, but my mind is still a fucking mess just because I think too much and I can't stop. I end up making myself so sad. I don't know, this is a little story that will hopefully help you guys if you worry about all this, or just make you smile. I really hope you liked it, thank you so much for reading, thankyou <3 |-/


End file.
